The Spartan IV's
by Oscar Charlie Delta
Summary: Follow the journey of a man as he tries to become a Spartan. He will face the most hard and devastating challenges that will effect everyone, even the entire UNSC. Rated M for Violence, Language, and Sexual Encounters. Please Read and Review. Ch 3 is up!
1. Chapter 1

_**HALO: The Spartan IV's**_

**2200 Hours // UNSC Colony Jericho VII // June 2560**

"Another drink," Red Castle said. The bartender was washing the bar with a wet rag and let out a heavy sigh, but still grabbed another glass. Ten seconds later, another tall glass of Alt Burgundy was sliding toward Red. He grabbed it and took a long sip.

"That is your limit." The bartender noted. He walked towards Red and laid down a rare paper receipt. It was clear this was the worst bar in town. The total was more then Red could bear. Thirty seven United Nations Credits. He reluctantly paid the heavy tab and left the bar. He only had fifty credits left that had to last the rest of the week. Now he was in a big pickle. As he walked toward the door he saw three UNSC soldiers sit down at a poker table.

A certain tingle climbed up Red's back. This was his chance to be back in the clear. If he was lucky enough to coax a few enlisted soldiers into giving him their money, he could pay his rent and buy food for the month. He walked up to the table.

"Mind a fourth player?" The soldiers looked up and saw Red shuffling his last thirteen credits. One soldier, a Sergeant, a bald and confident looking man ready to kill, nodded and watched as Red threw in his pot and sat down. "Rules?"

A second soldier, a Private, spoke up. "Nothing out of the ordinary here kid. We are just playing a casual game." While Red was irritated with the soldier's 'kid' remark, he respected that he was polite. It was rare for a UNSC soldier to be nice to a civilian.

Red nodded. The third soldier, a busty looking Corporal, had a dirty smirk on his face and was clearly upset about Red sitting in. He stuck to his cards. The Sergeant dealt the cards and Red peeked at his.

Shit.

His hand was pathetic. A two and a three. He would have to do some serious bluffing if he was to get a portion of the now one hundred dollar pot. He looked at the other soldiers faces and his pride sunk. He was hoping that at least two of the soldiers would be bad at the game, but clearly poker was a hobby of theirs. Nevertheless, if Red could get lucky in the game, he could go home with serious cash.

The Private watched as Red, the Sergeant and the Corporal both threw in two credits. He sighed and threw his cards over. "I fold," He said, leaning back in his chair. _One down, two to go_, Red thought to himself. The pot grew larger two at least one hundred and twenty when the Sergeant folded as well.

The Corporal was nervous now. He didn't have his soldier buddies to give him confidence and he was sure Red was a force to be reckoned with. He took another peek at his cards and rustled a few credits in his hand, like he was thinking if the risk was worth it. He threw in the five credits he was holding.

Red's resolve was unraveled by the raising of the pot. The Corporal once again peeked at his cards and then glanced at the Sergeant and the Private. They both shrugged their shoulders. Finally, the Corporal gave up and folded. Red looked at the cards. All he could do was laugh.

The Corporal had two Jacks. At the sound of Red's laugh, the Corporal knew he made a great mistake. Red showed his cards, his pathetic hand. The Sergeant and the Private broke out laughing. Red pulled the pot in towards him and organized it as the Sergeant once again dealt out the cards for a second round of play.

This time Red had a more respectable hand. The pot also grew to an even bigger size. Red won again. The game lasted a lot longer then Red had expected. Right after they started the tenth round, the bartender tried to kick them out. "Okay, okay, I assure you, this is our last game." The Sergeant yelled at the bartender.

He dealt the cards and the round began. Red still had a respectable pile, but since it was the last round, they all agreed to have a good game and go all in from the beginning. Luckily, Red was confident about his hand. This round went quickly, as the Corporal and Private folded immediately. The Sergeant however, was not having a good night, and growing agitated.

A snarl held his gaze as he looked at the pot, which was now over five hundred credits. Red was sure his hand was nowhere as good as his own, but he was not willing to take chances with so much money on the line.

Five minutes had gone by of just Red and the Sergeant looking at each other and the pot. "Okay, let bygones be bygones. On three, we show our cards and whoever has the better hand wins."

Red nodded.

"One…two…three…Now!" The Sergeant and Red both flipped their cards. The Sergeant pounded onto the table. Everything shook. The Sergeant's cards were two Kings. Red's cards were two Aces. Red pulled in the large pot and shuffled it into his pockets.

Reluctantly, the Sergeant shook Red's hand. The bartender rushed them out, the Soldiers had a frown and Red had a smile that stretched from ear to ear.

On his way back to his apartment, Red noticed a sign near the shipyard. It was neither fancy nor decorated. It was plain paper but held the most important message he had ever read. Red was twenty five, and growing up he was expecting to enlist in the UNSC and fight the Covenant. It would have gotten him off the planet and into a life he could actually enjoy.

Instead, the war had ended right before he could enlist. The UNSC fell into harsh times and could no longer support a large influx of new recruits. He tried to enlist nevertheless, but they turned him down.

The sign read:

**Official Notice of the**

**United Nations Space Command**

**by order of the **

**Office of Naval Intelligence Section III**

**The UNSC is officially looking for recruits for a new experimental program inside the highest level of security. A new SPARTAN program has surfaced. **

**All recruits are accepted, but recruits are needed with military experience. All men and women looking to participate are needed on planet Earth by July 7 of this year. Recruits must pay their own fare for the transportation. **

**Recruits should report to Captain Gerald Cohen. **

Red recalled counting the credits he had won. He had over five hundred credits. It was more then enough to hitch a ride on a UNSC vessel to Earth. Could he make it? The military itself was hard enough. How hard would it be to become a Spartan? It was the best soldier the UNSC could produce.

In five seconds, his life flashed before his eyes. He was living a piss poor life here of Jericho, and there was no sign of improvement. He had decided. He yanked the notice off the wall and walked into the shipyard office.


	2. Chapter 2

**1800 Hours // Planet Earth // July 6 2560**

Red stood at the entrance of the large UNSC transport ship. His ticket had cost a little fewer than one hundred credits, but it was a fair price for the conditions. He was one of three passengers on the vessel; the rest was all supplies for planet Earth.

Three armored and armed UNSC soldiers stood at the front as the ship's landing bay opened. Light spilled into the bay, and as things became clear, Red realized that they had landed at a military base. Once the bay was fully open, the soldiers walked off and signaled for Red and the other two passengers to exit.

Red was amazed by the sheer scale of the base. Hundreds of aircraft were parked in rows and even more flew through the sky, waiting for their turn to land. Large warehouse buildings housed vehicles and he watched as large trucks hauled Pelican vessels into the buildings for repair. Even Marines marched and performed drills as the day was near end.

Red overcame his awe and followed the other passengers. Before they could get lost in the large area, Red noticed a marine walking towards them. This man wore his battle dress uniforms, but no armor, and a UNSC baseball cap. He also was able to see the rank on his uniform. Sergeant Major Brown wore a heavy and tired look. Red guessed his shift was almost over.

Brown stopped his march and put his hands on the small of his back. The first passenger carried a military duffle bag with his name spray painted onto the olive green leather. He and the Sergeant Major conversed for about thirty seconds and then he was motioned towards one of the buildings past the two main hangars. The second passenger held a rucksack on his back, but it carried no symbols of any kind. The Sergeant immediately directed him to the same area as the first.

Finally, Red stepped forward. He carried very few items in a simple bag, one that he has had since childhood. His brown hair was a mess, and heavy bags hung under his eyes. He wore the same clothes as he had worn during the poker game. His feet carried simple work boots with dry mud covering the steel toe section.

The Sergeant Major gave Red a long look over. When he finally looked at Red, his face carried a nasty smirk. Red said nothing, but retrieved the paper notice from his pocket. He unfolded the now wrinkly paper and handed it to the Sergeant Major. The marine didn't even have to read it.

"You too huh?" The Sergeant Major crumbled the paper into a ball and stuffed it into his pocket. "So you want to be a Spartan?" The Sergeant Major looked towards the building that he had directed the other two people to. "Military Experience is recommended."

Red nodded. This marine was clearly a hard ass. Despite this, he wasn't going to let the Sergeant stop him. "I am aware of that Sergeant."

"At least you didn't call me sir," The Sergeant said. He nodded and pointed towards the building. "Maybe you will turn out to be something after all." Red nodded back and walked towards the building. He could feel the Sergeant Major watching him.

Red walked briskly towards the building and he easily caught up with the other two passengers. As they entered the building, they were treated to a large sitting area that held more then what the maximum occupancy to be. At least a hundred men and women were sitting and standing inside the room. Most of them wore UNSC sweats and uniforms, but some seemed to be civilian like Red. He leaned against the wall near the door. There was no clock, but he knew that he hadn't been waiting long when the door at the other side of the room burst open.

Five marines in their battle dress ran in and lined up in formation. They were followed by a marine officer. This man was a Captain. He looked over the room at least two times, eyeing every face, graving it into his mind.

Finally, he spoke. "I am Captain Cohen. Welcome to the Spartan IV program. This will be the most advanced, efficient and invested in program the UNSC has ever taken up on their shoulders. There are one hundred and two of you in this room. In three days time, only thirty of you will remain."

A room wide shock overcame the people in the room. Even the military men were surprised by the announcement. Red had to admit to himself that he was shocked, but tried to keep his cool. He guessed that remaining calm was key to this program.

"This program will not be easy. It will be the most brutal experience you will ever face." The Captain continued looking over the room. "In six weeks, I will be surprised if ten of you remain. The war with the Covenant taught us a lesson, and I refuse to let us repeat our mistakes."

The Captain turned to his men and said two words. Red could not hear them, but he could only guess. The Captain walked out. As soon as the door shut, the men began yelling.

"Move, Move, Move!" They yelled. "Fall into a line! Let's move!" Red moved as fast as he could. He gathered his belongings and fell in behind another person who was already in the formed line. In less then a minute, the entire group was in a line that stretched around the building.

One of the marines moved to the front and directed the group out of the room. Red walked into a large hallway and out of the building. The sun shone down on his eyes, but he resisted the urge to cover his eyes. As the front marine led the group, the rest of them continued yelling, trying their best to break the group down bit by bit.

Red lost track of how long they walked but after a few minutes, they came to a large one level housing unit. Large generators hung on the sides, and the walls were flimsy and easy to tell that they weren't meant to be permanent. The marine led stopped. The marines nodded to each other and they each said the same thing.

"You will choose a room and bunk. Two to a room. Get rid of your shit and change into the sweats. If they do not fit, make them fit. Return to this area when you are finished. You have two minutes. Move, Move, Move!"

Red wanted to rush the ones in front of him, but he held his tongue. He moved in and followed the same pattern as the others. Two people broke off and ran into a room. He came to the next room and ran in. He was quickly followed by another person. He was very muscular and masculine. Red didn't waste time looking him over past that.

He threw his bag to the floor and found the sweats. He didn't bother checking the size, but realized that they fit him pretty well. He finished getting dressed and ran out. His roomy quickly followed. He found the marines and continued the formation that was already forming. He did not wait long for the remainder of the group to return, but he could tell the marines were already agitated.

Once the group was back together once again, they were marched off to a field not fifty yards away. The formation was spaced out. Red knew nothing about military or their formations, but was surrounded by experienced military members. He molded his movements and positions after them and knew it was right, as he was not bothered by the instructors.

The first Marine yelled into the group. He was clearly the head instructor. "Jumping jacks! Ready…Go!" The group performed jumping jacks for at least ten minutes. Red's last count was at one hundred and fifty. Finally, they ended. He had no time to rest though.

"Push ups! Ready…Go!" Red had barely enough time to get into position before the grueling push ups had started. He had never been the heavy exerciser, but he did do a few things every week. Despite this, the push ups were grueling. By the time they were finished, his arms were on fire.

It was going to be a long night.


	3. Chapter 3

_**0700 Hours // UNSC base 'The Pit'// The Next Day**_

Captain Gerald Cohen walked briskly with his LT. They both wore their dress blue uniforms. The elevator had taken them down to the mostly underground military base in less then thirty seconds. They walked down the long and wide hallways which held the dorm rooms and armory as well as other supplies for anyone training here. They continued walking until they met another, older looking Naval Officer. It was Lord Hood.

If he was old seven years ago, he was certainly extremely frail looking now. He nearly needed a walking cane. Cohen and his LT stopped in front of Hood and saluted. After the gesture was returned, they continued walking down the hall at a much slower pace. This hallway showed the large armory room. It held over three hundred small arm weapons, and enough ammunition to wage a small war.

"Lord Hood, Sir, I am most pleased to see you here Sir." Cohen mentioned, trying to get the pleasantries out of the way. "Are you proud of the establishment?" 'The Pit' as the men here had nicknamed it, had been under construction since before the end of the war with the Covenant, but it was only recently finished, including this part of the facility.

"Yes it is quite an achievement. I hope that you are able to take advantage of this. Has Project: MACHO begun yet?" Even though stating it, Cohen believed Lord Hood could not give a rat's ass about the facility.

"Yes Sir." Cohen answered. "They arrived yesterday. One hundred men and women, with most of them marines looking to become more badass."

"Most of them? And the rest?"

"Civilians. From what my drill instructors tell me, all of them had a difficult time with the workout last night. It ran well into two in the morning. I knew they would struggle with it, but I could not believe the reports."

Hood nodded. "Civilians are the future of the UNSC Captain. We will need more volunteers if we are ever to stand up to another enemy such as the Covenant. Project: MACHO however, is not the right place for them. I wish you had not left the process so open to the public."

"I did what I thought was best."

"Did you fight in the Covenant War Captain?" Hood asked accusingly. Cohen knew what was coming: Another long lecture about what war was really about.

"In the last battles I did."

"I commanded our forces through it. I know first hand that Spartans are the ones who won us that war. Or, at least a Spartan did." Hood explained.

"117 huh? Never had the chance to fight with him." Cohen noted. "Have we ever found him?"

Hood shook his head. "His official status is Missing in Action (MIA)." Hood sunk his head and then raised it again. "But I have hoped that he is still alive. The Covenant were the worst foes we ever met in battle. Don't believe what your Mother told you Captain. Your best is never good enough."

"I understand Sir."

Hood nodded. "Then I leave you now. Do the UNSC proud Captain."

_**Three Hours Later // 'The Pit' // Gymnasium**_

"Lets go, lets go, lets go," the drill instructors yelled together. The group was running drills through the gymnasium. They were doing rope climbs, runs, and strength plays all day long. Red was running around the gym for the fourth time. They did not have a limit on how many times they were supposed to do it.

Red did notice however, that the group was significantly smaller then the night before. Luckily, he was doing well. The workout the night before, which had dragged well into the early hours of the morn. Red noticed several times today that the Drill Instructors pulled some people aside if they were slacking. They were never seen after that. He could only assume, that the Instructors were trying their hardest to weed out the week and slim the group down.

Red's running partner, a young woman who had refused to tell him her name, had been just pulled aside. He had no idea why he was spared from that fate. Suddenly, a long whistle blew from inside the gym.


End file.
